قَد عِشتَ في الناسِ غَريباً وَها

قَد مُتَّ بَينَ الناسِ مَوتَ الغَريبْ

You lived among people as a stranger, wandering

You died among people the death of a stranger

وَالناسُ مُذ كانوا ذَوو قَسوَةٍ

وَلَيسَ لِلبائِسِ فيهِم نَصيبْ

And people have always been cruel

The wretched among them have no share

لَو كُنتَ في حَبلِكَ شَنّاقَهُم

لَوَلْوَلُوا حُزناً وَشَقّوا الجُبوبْ

Had you been one who fills their stomachs

They would have grieved and rent their clothes

أَو كُنتَ مِن سِلكٍ رَزّاقَهُم

لَقامَ عِندَ السَلِّ أَلفا خَطيبْ

Or been one who fills their purses

A thousand orators would have stood at your bier

وَنَزَّهوا حَبلَكَ عَن عَيبِهِ

وَبَلَّلوا السَلَّ بِذَوبِ القُلوبْ

They would have purified your reputation of any stain

And moistened the bier with their tears

لكِنَّكَ الحَمّالُ لَم يَطمَعوا

فيكَ وَلَم يَخشوا أَذاكَ الرَهيبْ

But you were a porter; they did not hope for anything from you

And did not fear your awesome might

رَغيفُكَ الطاهِرُ غَمَّستَهُ

مِن عَرَقِ زاكٍ وَدَمعِ صَبيبْ

You dipped your pure loaf

In the sweat of the toiler and tears of the heartbroken

ما كُنتَ سَلّاباً أَخا غَصبَةٍ

بَل كُنتَ ذا حَقٍّ سَليبٍ غَصيبْ

You were not an extortioner, my brother

Rather you had a legitimate, if meager, right

فَرُحتَ لَم يَسكُب عَلَيكَ اِمرؤٌ

دَمعاً وَلا قَلبٌ رَفيقٌ يَلوبْ

So no one shed a tear for you

No sympathetic heart melted for you

وَلَم يُوَدِّعكَ حَبيبٌ وَقَد

يُهَوِّنُ الصَعبَ وَداعُ الحَبيبْ

And no lover bade you goodbye, though

The farewell of a lover makes hardship easier to bear

حَبلُكَ وَالسَلُّ لَقَد أَودَيا

بِهَيبَةِ المَوتِ الوُقورِ الرَهيبْ

Your luggage and the bier did away

With the solemn majesty of formidable death

وَفيهِما لَو أَنصَفوا رِفعَةٌ

وَشاهِداً أَفضَلَ وَخَيرٍ وَطيبْ

And in them, had they been fair, was honor

And a better witness and goodness and grace

قَد مَرَّ أَهلُ الدَربِ لَم يَأبَهوا

لِلمُهمَلِ المَطروحِ فَوقَ الدُروبْ

The people of the road passed by, paying no attention

To the neglected one, discarded on the roads

كَم قَد سَأَلتَ الناسَ ماءً فَلَم

يُجِبكَ النَزعُ شَفيقٌ مُجيبْ

How many times you asked people for water, but

No compassionate person answered your call

أَو اِستَعَنتَ الطَبَّ لكِنَّما

لَم تَملِك الأَجرَ فَفَرَّ الطَبيبْ

Or you sought a doctor’s help, but

You couldn’t afford it, so the doctor fled

أَو رُبَّما أَوصَيَت أَو شِئتَ أَن

توصي فَلَم يَسمَعَك حانٍ قَريبْ

Or maybe you tried to make a will, or wanted to,

But no relative was near to hear you

رُبَّ صَغيرٍ لَكَ خَلَّفتَهُ

مُنتَظِراً إِيّاكَ حَتّى تَؤوبْ

You left behind many little children

Waiting for your return in hope that you would relent

يَرجوكَ لِلجوعِ الَّذي شَفَّهُ

يا غائِباً عَنهُ وَطالَ المَغيبْ

Yearning for you in the hunger that wasted them

While you were absent from them for so long

إِنَّ قَوافِيَّ عَلى قَحطِها

تَلقى بِمَرآكَ المَجالَ الخَصيبْ

My rhyming couplets in their frugality

Find in your example fertile ground

بُرودكَ الهادىءُ قَد هاجَها

فَجَرَّرَت غَضَبي ذُيولُ اللَهيبْ

Your cold stillness stirred them up

My wrathful verses trail flames

يامَوقِظَ النِقمَةِ في أَضلُعي

بَشَّعَتَ في عَيني الجَمالَ العَجيبْ

O you who provoke vengeance in my chest

You made beauty seem ugly in my eyes

لِثَوبِكَ الرَثِّ وَإِخلاقَهُ

كَرِهتُ أَثوابَ الحَريرِ القَشيبْ

I hated silk clothes and their manners

For your tattered robe and its manners

وَالجَسَدُ الجامِدُ في يُبسِهِ

كَرَّهَ لي الغُصنَ الطَرِيَّ الرَطيبْ

And the rigid corpse in its aridity

Made the soft fresh branch hateful to me

وَصَمتُكَ الرائِعُ يا موحِشي

بَغَّضَ لي الصَوتَ الحَنونَ الطَروبْ

And your splendid silence, my gloominess,

Made the tender melodious voice repugnant to me

زَهَّدَتني بِالعَيشِ في مَعشَرٍ

عارٍ عَنِ الرَحمَةِ خاوٍ جَديبْ

You made me scorn to live in a horde

Devoid of mercy, barren and lifeless

حَياتُكَ المَأساةُ مَثَّلتَها

ذِروَتَها الفَصلُ الأَخيرُ الكَئيبْ

Your woeful life dramatized

In its final wretched act

وَراقَبَ الناسُ تَفاصيلَها

لكِنَّهُ ما إِن وَعاها رَقيبْ

And people watched the details

But no watcher grasped them

يا حَسرَتاهُ قَد فاتَني بَدؤُها

وَأُسدِلَت قَبلي عَلَيها الحُجوبْ

Alas! Its opening passed me by

And its scenes were veiled from me

أَولا فَلَو أَبصَرتَها كُلَّها

لَكُنتُ مِن وَجدي وَحُزني أَذوبْ

Oh if only you had seen it whole

Melting in my passion and sorrow

إِنّي مِنَ الناسِ وَلكِنَّني

في رِقَّتي عَنهُمُ بَعيدٌ جَنيبْ

I am of the people, but in my tenderness, I am

Far, aloof from them

أَبكي عَلى الظالِمِ مِن رِقَّةٍ

وَخِنجَر الظالِمِ مِنّي شَريبْ

I weep for the oppressor out of kindness

While the oppressor’s dagger is my drink

فِراقُ هذا الناسِ عيدٌ فَلا

تَجزعْ وَذي الراحَةِ بَعدَ اللُغوبْ

To part from these people is a celebration—do not

Grieve, and the comfort after hardship comes